


Uh oh! You Made the Wrong Sucker a Cuckold!

by Oyakata_Manya



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kinda skeezy, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, POV Second Person, Shigure-centric, Some OOCness, Title makes this look like a joke fic, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, sorta drabble, unhealthy thought processes, well it is and it isn’t
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 13:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20976497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oyakata_Manya/pseuds/Oyakata_Manya
Summary: Hard and fast Kurekigure porn, with a bit of a bite to it.





	Uh oh! You Made the Wrong Sucker a Cuckold!

**Author's Note:**

> Title is lyrics from ‘Say No To This’ from the musical Hamilton, which, shockingly, has a lot of Kureno/Akito vibes going on, methinks. 
> 
> I don’t know what possessed me to write this fic. I don’t really know quite what I was going for, thematically and whatnot. 
> 
> Still, I hope you may enjoy what I’ve written here.

Your mouth goes dry. 

It takes you a moment and a half to register what exactly it is that you’re seeing, but when the information _does_ click, the realization of just what’s happening before you hits you like a bullet to the chest. 

_“P-please—!”_

That’s Akito, lying on her back and arching up from pleasure and oversensitivity, perky pink nipples hard in the cold spring air and face flushed, head thrown back and sticky with the grime and sweat from her dark hair. Her eyes are squeezed shut but even from here you can see the glistering residue of tear streaks down her cheeks, and her mouth is open wide, gasping and calling and breathless. 

Your mouth is dry. 

You fist a hand tightly in the fabric of your gakuran.

She’s everything you’ve ever wanted. She’s your wildest dreams, erotic and wanton and godly, limber and lithe even in her child’s body. From here you can’t see it but you can only imagine the pinkness of her slit, the shiny way her juices must reflect the low lighting between her slim pale thighs. 

You have to stick your tongue out; lather your lips in saliva. Your mouth is so dry. 

You’ve pictured this moment, idealized it for years; how she must sound when she’s on the virge of climaxing, voice high and feminine and desperate, desperate for the purchase you can give her. And fuck, don’t you want to give it to her. You think you want to spoon-feed her your passion, your dedication and your love for her; fill her from the inside until she overflows with it. 

_“I’m—uhn—!”_

It’s almost too much to bear, you can nearly taste it at this point. 

But—and at this, your mouth goes dry—

The entire picture is wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

Because that’s Akito, getting fucked so hard it leaves her ruby red and reeling, and that’s definitely Kureno, caging her in against the tatami mats and driving his cock into her with unrelenting force. 

Fuck. You bite your lip hard enough to bleed. Your tongue feels like sandpaper. 

You feel sweat drip down your arms. You’re nauseous, seconds from spitting your upset onto the floor. 

Even still, you don’t move. 

Even still, you are rooted in place, digging your nails hard enough into the palms of your hands that they bleed. Even still, you feel the white hot anger sparking up your spine; a power shortage every single goddamn time the Rooster moves his hips. 

Fuck, the things you do for her. 

(The things you want to do to her.)

Kureno’s in a sorry enough state; from your stance behind the doors—and you’d only ever had the chance to open them a sliver, only ever just enough to _see_—you can barely make out his face, but he’s pale and sweating like a sinner in church, mouth agape and mumbling

_“Haha—hnn—Aki—!”_

He’s ugly. Really, he is. He’s _years _your junior and it shows, in his underdeveloped and gangly proportions, his thin limbs and small hands on either side of Akito’s shoulders (Akito’s shoulders, which are flexed up close to her head; her arms reaching up to cover her face, cover her eyes in humiliation. _No_, you think, _I want to see_). He’s ugly, yes, but more than that, the way he’s gasping and panting in tandem with her, the way he hides his face behind shaggy auburn hair, he’s—

(Kureno gives a long groan, different from the other idle sounds he’s been making. He pushes himself into Akito with purpose and holds that position. She whimpers. This is her first time; she’s so young and inexperienced, she’s no doubt oversensitized, and the feeling of Kureno’s cum flooding her from the inside must be absolutely overwhelming)

Your mouth is dry. Your tongue, like sandpaper. 

—_Pathetic._

Fuck, they both are. How long have they wanted this? How long have they thought of doing this with each other? This isn’t the way you fuck when you’re on a one-time basis, and you know it (that burns you), this isn’t the disinterested use of each other’s bodies as a means to an end. 

This is the way lovers fuck; scared and intimate. Like they’ve both wanted this for years. 

And how? You think, white knuckles cracking with the sheer intensity of your overpowering feelings. The lovers can’t see it, but there’s an eruption on the other side of their door. 

And how? Since when has Kureno—young, naive, _irrelevant_ Kureno—ever been worth more than a passing moment of Akito’s time?

But—and fuck, fuck, your pants are so tight, and your mouth is dry with it—that fucking girl isn’t blameless either. 

You can picture it; picture how she would’ve grabbed for his neck, seduced him with her soft and succulent young body like the seductress she was born to be. What did she even want from it? What does she even want from Kureno?

What does she even want from Shigure?

(that thought is ash in your mouth)

God, fuck. _God_. You will wonder, in the coming years, if this is the exact moment she loses her god-like qualities to you. 

This moment, being—

It doesn’t take long after Kureno cums inside of her for Akito herself to reach climax. She’s a sight to behold when she does, tossing her head back and arching wildly, long nails digging into her partner’s back with so much drive you can see the blood trails they leave. 

She gives a mangled cry and you can see when she squirts (fuck, she’s a squirter, and that information makes you—) against Kureno, the physical embodiment of her pleasure splashing like relief against the flat (pathetic) stomach. 

It’s done. 

She’s panting from exhaustion. They both are. They’re tuckered out, you think for a moment, but that description is almost too sweet for such repulsive people as them. 

It’s—

Your mouth is dry. 

You're dizzy and sick with it, you wonder what you just watched, you remember watching documentaries in school about people who’ve witnessed death, soldiers who’ve seen the gore of their comrades splatter in chunks across the sky—

(This moment will live in you forever, it will affect every decision you make from here on in.)

Your mouth is dry and your eyes are wide, knuckles white and sweat dripping from your pits and your face, feet heavy like lead weights. The room is spinning and you’re rock hard in your trousers. 

It’s—

* * *

Ren and Akito share many common features. 

For example, they sound the same when they’ve got a cock buried in them; high and breathy and breath_less_, panting nonsense as they rut back against their partner to gain a deeper fuck. 

Fuck, you’re—

It’s after midnight and Ren’s rooms are perfumed so thickly with incense you feel like you might just pass out. You’re twenty and older, wiser, you’re a warmonger with a knowledge of the battlefield and memories of trenches blurred into your bloodline. 

You’ll fight and fuck and sully your hands with mud for the sake of one girl—one girl who you watched get deflowered on the floor by the boy you’ve known since childhood, one girl who you saw in a dream, once, some million years ago. 

You’ll bed this woman for the sake of that girl. 

_“Hey—w-why don’t y—”_

You slam your hips into hers. Shit, this bitch doesn’t ever shut up. It’s really grating. 

You’ve got her pinned to the wall, arms held above her head and ass spread wide for you. From the back you can see the way her breasts heave, the curl of a smirk on her red-bitten lips behind the streaks of inky black hair. 

She isn’t beautiful, not on the inside, or on the out. She’s a shadow of the mystical mystery possessed by her own daughter, but she’s still a woman. She likes that feeling, and you do too, she’s hot and tight and velvet soft for you. 

Fuck, it’s—

You pull out at the last second; when you hit your climax it splatters across her ass; long thick ropes of creamy white that make her reddened skin look gnarly in comparison. 

She nearly screams at the sensation, and cackles like a witch when she has her own dry orgasm. She throws her head back, clenching her eyes closed and tight. 

There’s hair everywhere and you’re both naked; she’s dripping come and you’re dripping love (if you’d come inside her, you know no force of nature could’ve held you back from grunting out _her _name).

There was a purpose here, and ultimately, it was accomplished. That doesn’t stop the thought of _Fuck, what are we doing with our lives _from settling bone dry upon your tongue. 

It’s—

You say, “It’s awful. Just awful.” and it is. 

.


End file.
